Kitchen Insider

The Emperor’s New Bay Leaves
Bay leaves have been around for at least 3,000 years and were used as an insect repellent, a medicine, and in wreaths and perfumes before, for some unknown reason, cooks started throwing them into soups and stews. Dried Turkish bay leaves (many packaged bay leaves do not offer their origin), at least the ones at my supermarket, impart zero flavor. Has this directive, “Add two bay leaves” ever delivered a “gentle herbal aroma?” Nope. Open a jar of bay leaves and sniff. Oregano, thyme, rosemary, etc. all provide a heady nasal infusion but dried bay leaves offer barely a hint of herbal aroma. And don’t get me started on California bay leaves, which are overwhelming with a powerful menthol/eucalyptus aroma totally unsuited for cooking. Maybe a few hundred years ago bay leaves actually delivered, but less so today. My advice? Throw out that half empty jar of bay leaves you’ve had for years and be done with it if a good sniff offers nothing more than a dusty dull aroma. (If someone sells bay leaves that actually deliver noticeable herbal flavor, please let me know!) —Christopher Kimball

Seedy Business
Seeding a pomegranate can feel like a crime scene waiting to happen, so we set out to find the fastest, cleanest, most efficient method. We tested four techniques: halving and tapping on the rind; sectioning and tapping; and two methods that involved breaking the fruit apart and working the seeds free in water. We judged each on yield, mess, ease and time. Our favorite? Halve the pomegranate across the equator (not pole to pole), then place the cut side on top of your splayed fingers over a bowl. Firmly smack the back and sides with a wooden spoon. The seeds fall through your fingers into the bowl with minimal mess and effort. Sectioning the fruit along its natural seams before tapping also worked, but took a bit longer. The underwater methods kept our hands stain-free, but involved plenty of splashing water and took twice as long.

Pancetta to the Rescue
Guanciale—cured pork jowl—is the foundation of many Roman pasta dishes, including carbonara and gricia, but it’s not always easy to find. To identify the best substitute, we made batches of pasta alla gricia using guanciale, pancetta, bacon and salt pork, then held a blind tasting. The winner was clear: pancetta. Though guanciale still was best for its uniquely crisp-chewy texture and rich, fatty flavor, pancetta came closest in taste and mouthfeel. Tasters praised its “meaty flavor and chew,” noting that it lacked some of guanciale’s complexity, but still delivered a balanced, satisfying result. Bacon was too smoky and assertive, while salt pork was excessively salty and rendered poorly, creating smoke and little browning. When buying pancetta, try to get a rolled piece, then cut it yourself. Pre-diced pancetta often is cut too small.

The Trouble with Saffron
Measuring saffron is a bit like herding cats. That’s because the pesky, pricy threads refuse to mound nicely in a measuring spoon. To figure out if there is a better way, we tested multiple methods, measuring by volume, weight and thread count. The results were wildly inconsistent. A half teaspoon might weigh 0.2 grams one time and 0.35 the next, depending on how tightly the threads were packed. Counting them was no better; variations in thread length and fragility made it unreliable. Even weighing was a challenge—unless both the recipe developer and cook are using highly precise gram scales, results vary. Does all this irregularity matter? We made the same recipe with high and low measurements of theoretically the same amount of saffron. Both versions were delicious, but one had a more pronounced saffron flavor. Our advice? Measure as best you can with a spoon; use a heavier hand if you love saffron flavor and a lighter one if you want subtlety.